


Under

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Series: On Your Knees [2]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-23
Updated: 2006-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In addition to general Christmas cheer, I wanted to give <a href="http://telesilla.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://telesilla.livejournal.com/"><b>telesilla</b></a> something in thanks for a personal favour she did me, so rather than a drabble I decided to write a sequel of the fic I wrote for her back in the day, <a href="http://v-angelique.livejournal.com/40553.html">Time of Need</a>.  This takes place perhaps a couple months after the first, and is a bit darker, but ultimately with a spirit of goodwill and all that.  Orlando wants to get to the bottom of Sean's mood in the scene with Viggo, and in doing so shows Sean the benefit of his style of dominance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Telesilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/gifts).



> And damnit, once again it got angstier than I intended! Can't I just write *happy* BDSM with these guys? Heh, guess not.

"We need to have a talk," Orlando said simply as Sean stepped inside his London home, a new place, purchased a month ago for himself and implicitly for Viggo as well. He and Sean hadn't seen each other since Idaho, and Orlando hadn't made it very clear whether or not Sean was welcome. But here he was. Viggo, incidentally, was nowhere to be seen.

"All right. Start talking," Sean suggested, following him up the stairs with a frown, wondering if the house was one of those new-age layouts with the kitchen on the first floor.

"You unnerved him," Orlando replied, leading the way to the end of the hall. "You were moody and melancholy, and you upset him."

"I thought that was the point," Sean grumbled as they stepped inside a room—definitely not the kitchen, he realised when Orlando tugged the door shut with a resounding bang and flipped a switch.

It was impressive as playrooms went, strewn with bondage furniture as one might expect but classy, lots of dark colours and rich fabrics. One wall was lined with torture implements, and Sean noticed with a small shiver that the whips, floggers, canes, and paddles were meticulously organised according to size, material, and weight, the smaller items similarly categorised in an oak cabinet with glass doors.

"That was not the point, Sean, and you know it," Orlando replied, standing facing Sean in the centre of the room. "It was never the point, and you promised to take direction from me. Something you did made him nervy, and I don't like it when someone _fucks_ with my subs, Sean."

Sean stared incredulously at Orlando, at the man's icy gaze. "He was _my_ sub too, you bastard!"

"Not anymore," Orlando replied mildly.

"Well what does that have to do with anything?" Sean exclaimed, clearly frustrated with the other man's conversation tactics. "Your bloody ego is getting to your brains, Orlando. You're just a fucking kid, lest you forget."

Orlando's stare was cold and hard. He didn't react to the insult at all, outwardly, which unnerved Sean to no end. He was about to turn to leave when Orlando spoke, his voice chill and matter-of-fact.

"Obviously you still have some lessons to learn, Sean."

Sean scoffed, meeting Orlando's eye. "And who's going to teach me? You?"

"Yes," Orlando replied simply. "I didn't bring you up here for a bloody coffee," he pointed out, looking almost annoyed at how slow-on-the-uptake Sean was tonight.

"Oh, you are out of your ever loving mind…" Sean grumbled, turning to leave once more. And again, he didn't make it to the door. Orlando's words stopped him dead.

"Give me your safeword, Sean."

"No."

"I'm sorry," Orlando replied in a tone that made it very clear that he wasn't. "I wasn't very clear. Give me a safeword, or you don't _get_ a safeword," he warned, invading Sean's personal bubble, about as close as he could get without actually touching.

"Go to hell," Sean spat out, turning on heel to look Orlando straight in the eye.

Orlando just smiled, slowly. "Last chance, Sean. You might be interested to know that this playroom is locked from the inside, however. That closet over there is full of all sorts of interesting bondage gear, and I know how to wield a singletail," he said simply, casually. "If you're thinking that your size will be of an advantage to you here, then it also may be of note that everything I learned about how to take a boy down came from a five foot tall domme. Oh—and I play dirty."

Orlando's smile was pure evil, and Sean just stared at him for a long pause before reeling back and swinging, hard, catching Orlando in the jaw before he made a break for the door, kicking with all his strength.

Orlando turned back, slowly, his hand wiping the blood from his mouth in one swipe, his eyes fixed on Sean who now, almost comically, was flinging his body against the door. The smile returned to his eyes, but his mouth was set in a hard line. "You _really_ shouldn't have done that."

Sean just continued to rattle the heavy, sturdy door in its frame, not noticing the system of metal locking devices that were keeping it securely in place. This stubbornness worked to Orlando's advantage, as it gave him plenty of time to stalk up behind Sean, get the metal handcuffs ready, and then in a quick move with surprisingly little effort, restrain Sean's wrists in front of his body.

The larger man didn't stop fighting, and Orlando didn't expect him to, but without the use of his hands it wasn't hard to get him in a compromising position, back against the door, Orlando holding an open switchblade dangerously close to Sean's crotch. Sean's gaze was steely, defiant, but he didn't dare move at this point, respecting the damage that little blade could do.

"Good boy," Orlando murmured, sarcastically, and though Sean was still glaring he remained silent. "I'm going to make you beg tonight," Orlando promised, tugging him away from the wall by the wrists, quickly shifting the blade to Sean's neck and frogmarching him over to a spanking bench.

"Not bloody likely," Sean murmured, earning himself a little press with the blade that was enough to make his breath stop for a few seconds, only resuming when Orlando mercifully pulled the knife away from his vein.

Orlando just laughed and liberated Sean of his jeans, situating him over the bench and locking his cuffs to the rings on one side before ripping away his shirt. Once Sean's ankles were similarly restrained and his trousers sliced off with little regard for their expense, Orlando walked over to the wall, and Sean found his head turning of its own accord, fear beginning to sink low in his belly as Orlando studied the possibilities with an almost clinical disregard.

When he returned to Sean, Orlando lay his chosen implements on the ground in front of the bench, all in plain sight. Sean shivered slightly at the array—a short rubber whip, a leather crop, a studded wooden paddle, and a truly gorgeous birch cane. Orlando smiled, noting the way Sean's eyes zeroed in on the cane.

"Like that, don't you? I doubt you'll be getting that today, though," he mused, trailing an index finger from the base of Sean's neck to the curve of his arse. "You certainly haven't earned the right to beg for my cane," he assessed, his tone going from light and casual to dark and heavy in no time at all.

"Fuck you," Sean grunted, and Orlando laughed.

"I'm not the one getting fucked tonight, Seanie, so you might want to save it for someone who gives a shit," he suggested, dangling a thin strap of split leather in front of Sean's face. "You're familiar with the tawse, aren't you Sean? Nasty little sting, these things have. Used to use them on Scottish schoolboys' hands. Think I should just hit your hand with it?" he asked, his tone cruel.

"Doesn't matter what I think," Sean muttered, eyes squinting shut as his body tensed in preparation.

"No," Orlando agreed, bringing the leather down on Sean's arse. "It doesn't."

Sean took the first dozen smacks silently, gritting his teeth as Orlando warmed up his arm, precise but not particularly cruel—yet. After this warmup, he put more of his body into it, but the implement was still relatively tame as these things go, and Sean had high pain tolerance. After two dozen, Orlando put the tawse down next to the pile in front of Sean and smiled, rolling his sleeves up.

"I feel like a bloody schoolmaster," Orlando commented idly, picking the short whip up now and swinging its twelve-inch rubber tails back and forth in the air a few times, experimentally. "Punishing the cheeky little schoolboy with an attitude. You know, Sean, I have some experience with schoolmasters," he admitted, cracking the whip down a few times over Sean's shoulders, the sting heavier than Sean expected and biting, the tips viciously barbed. "And the thing about punishing a boy with attitude is, you never let up," he explained almost conversationally, his wrist flicking hard now as he brought the tails down on Sean's back. "You keep going, see, until the boy admits he's done wrong. Admits he has an attitude problem. And then," Orlando continued with a small smile Sean couldn't see, "you make him repent."

Sean snarled, refusing speech now for everything he said Orlando could easily twist. It was starting to hurt now, really bloody hurt, and his skin was no doubt pink and slightly shiny. He knew Orlando could give him much more, and even knew that Orlando would eventually find his breaking point, but Sean was a proud man. He'd been raised not to admit weakness, and he wouldn't, not until he was physically forced. If Orlando wanted respect, well, he was going to get it. But Sean didn't confer respect on anyone before it was properly earned, and if Orlando wanted Sean on his knees he was going to have to force him, to show him that he had the skills to put him there. He just hoped that he wouldn't be unable to stand or move by the time Orlando was through with him.

"Interesting thing, the crop," Orlando mused, picking it up as he spoke and setting the whip down next to the discarded tawse. "So innocent-looking… " he continued, rubbing the leather flapper against his palm, smacking lightly as he made a slow circle around Sean's body. "…and yet… so vicious." And with that, he took a step forward, his whole body following through the motion as the crop smacked down on Sean's right arse cheek. He yelped at that, a low sound deep in his throat—quickly cut off, but still a sound—and Orlando smiled as he followed the surprisingly hard smack by a few more quick flicks of the wrist, alternating cheeks for a moment and then throwing the crop down much more quickly than Sean had anticipated.

"Now let's see…" Orlando said as he walked not back to the two remaining items—the paddle and the cane—but instead to the wall. "I've spanked you like a schoolboy, whipped you like a thief, cropped you like a horse… and yet you still show surprisingly little response. But then, Sean, I could've expected that from you. Humiliation tightens you up, doesn't it? Hits you deep to the core but you'd rather die than admit it. And I want to hurt you, to make you submit, but I don't want to kill you," he said with a little laugh that Sean didn't find funny in the slightest. "I think the only thing you respond to, Sean, the only thing that's really going to command your respect, is pain."

And as Orlando spoke the word, his hand came down hard with an item Sean hadn't even noticed him retrieving, an even smack that would be unremarkable if it weren't for the sudden shock, a bolt of electricity that made him jerk hard in his bonds, his body thumping back down against the leather bench.

"What the bloody hell!"

Orlando grinned at the outburst and came down again, not as hard, but still with that vicious little shock of electricity, a few hard taps in a series on Sean's arse before answering the question. "Never seen an electric paddle, cheri?" he asked with a smirk, moving the smacks now lower, peppering Sean's thighs. "Should've known, I guess. You're not much for finesse."

Sean had a mind to complain, that he knew plenty about finesse ta very much and what right did Orlando have, the punk little kid, to tell him how to operate? But he was a bit distracted, and Orlando was hitting hard now, in quick succession to the arse again, not giving Sean a chance to recover or take a breath in between jolts. His body felt like it was crackling, like he was on the inside of a firework, and it was bloody _unnerving_, that's what it was.

"Please," he choked out after about five minutes of the torture, Orlando's arm showing no signs of stopping.

"Please what?" Orlando asked, matter-of-fact, continuing to smack the man with the electric jolts.

"Stop," Sean begged, his voice broken, though he couldn't get more than the single word out. Orlando smiled, stepped around, crouched directly in front of Sean's face, and shook his head. Sean noted that Orlando's lip was still bleeding, just before the man backhanded him.

"Getting there… but not there yet," Orlando commented casually as he stood again, pushing his hips forward as he unzipped his trousers and took his cock out. "Suck if you want a break," he ordered, and though Sean hesitated as the younger man painted his lips with precome, he found himself opening up obediently, anything to stop the electric shocks that were threatening to break his resolve.

He opened his mouth wide, expecting Orlando to fuck his throat, but was surprised when Orlando only pushed halfway inside, his fist firmly around the base of his cock, rocking back and forth so that the head of his cock slid slickly against Sean's lower lip. Daring to look up, Sean found Orlando's eyes closed, apparently enjoying himself despite Sean's lack of participation. He reached down to fist one hand in Sean's hair, and after a moment let go of his cock and with the other hand scratched hard over the pale welts the whip had left, drawing blood to the surface with nails that were a little too long—kept that way on purpose, Sean realised with a shiver.

As a dominant, Sean had never invested in toys or bothered to learn any specific sorts of mindplay. In fact, when he did engage in sex with men it was often just plain old rough vanilla sex, a pretty face with half a brain that he could drag into the loo or a car park with few objections. He'd fucked submissives before, sure, Viggo being one of them, but when they resisted he used simple tactics—rough fucking, sometimes the odd spanking here and there, the kind of thing he knew they'd like. It had never occurred to him to alter the length to which he trimmed his bloody _fingernails_ to improve his sex life. Orlando, clearly, was a crazy fuck.

"Maybe later I'll fuck you till your throat's sore," Orlando commented casually when he withdrew, not bothering to zip up again but just leaving his cock hanging out obscenely as he gave Sean's hair one last tug and then bent down for the cane. "But you haven't earned that."

Sean didn't bother to react, steeling himself mentally for the bite of the cane on his arse. Which was why he was surprised when, rather than the smack of wood on his flesh, he felt the unmistakeable cold slick intrusion of two lubed fingers up his arse. "My, but you're tight," Orlando commented with a laugh in his voice, his free hand pressing firmly on Sean's lower back, despite the fact that he was already firmly restrained, as he finger-fucked him. Sean groaned at the strange feeling of it, as he'd been fingered once or twice by an ambitious girl but never fucked, and he was rather tight in that area.

"Relax, Sean," Orlando instructed, his voice low and soothing and for some reason it made Sean want to _obey_, damn the kid, and Orlando certainly picked up on that as his fingers slid deeper between the clenching muscles and curled up hard. "Gorgeous little slut," he continued in that low rumble, rubbing Sean's prostate unerringly and sliding his free hand firmly up and down the warm, reddened flesh of Sean's back. Sean wanted to kill something when he felt his cock respond quite enthusiastically, tasting metal where he bit his lower lip to keep from moaning. Kill 'em with kindness, and damn if it wasn't working.

"Breathe for me," Orlando cautioned, and Sean found himself taking in a deep breath without thinking about the fact that he was obeying a direct order, playing into Orlando's hand as it were. The sensation of Orlando's fingers rubbing roughly against the bundle of nerves inside was just too bloody good, and when the fingers slid out he was mortified to find himself making a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper in protest.

"Slut," Orlando laughed as he pressed inside Sean's body with something entirely different, something that made Sean's arse clench even as Orlando pushed obstinately past the resistance. "You haven't earned my cane on your arse yet, but I'll offer you the privilege of having it _up_ your arse."

"Fuck you," Sean spat out, though his body said otherwise as his arse allowed the tip of the cane inside and his cock remained hard against the bench.

"No," Orlando replied in a deceptively cheerful tone. "Decidedly not." And he continued to push, until Sean became slightly concerned for his welfare, wriggling as much as his bonds would allow. "Funny thing, the intestine," Orlando continued in a conversational tone, ignoring Sean's whimper of fear as the object moved slowly, slowly deeper inside. "The muscles are extremely strong, but the tissue _so_ thin… doesn't take much to tear, you know. I hear internal bleeding is…"

"Please!" Sean gasped out, a choked cry. Were he in a rational state, he would've realised that Orlando would never _kill_ him, but he was far from rational at the moment and definitely fearing for his life.

"Please what, Sean? A little specificity would go a long way, I think."

"Don't… oh God… don't hurt me, Orlando, please!"

"Don't hurt you? Well, love, I think we both now I can't promise that," Orlando replied sardonically.

"Don't… God, do whatever you need to, just take it out, _please_!"

Orlando smiled, twisted, and slowly pulled the cane out of his arse, setting it aside. "Whatever _I_ need to?" Orlando repeated, giving Sean's arse a few sharp smacks for good measure. "I think tonight's about what _you_ need, Sean."

"You're bloody joking," Sean replied, but it came out as a meek whisper rather than one of his earlier growls.

"Oh no," Orlando objected. "You need this, Sean. You _need_ to go under, don't you?" he purred, smoothing his hands over Sean's thighs and pressing into his reddened arse with his thumbs. "You just don't want to tell me, but you need it, just as much as Viggo needs it."

Sean decided not to bother attempting to answer, instead doing his best to close his eyes and grit his teeth as Orlando raked his fingernails down Sean's back, then slid two slick fingers inside his arse and curled them immediately into Sean's prostate.

"You're lovely, Sean. You're even less likely to admit it than you are to admit that you need this, but you are. Lovely in your pain," Orlando purred, twisting his fingers hard as he pinched at Sean's arse.

It was almost an anticlimax when Orlando finally did enter him, pressing slowly inside with a strange amount of care, though the denim of his opened fly rasped against reddened skin and made Sean's cock twitch. Once inside, however, he didn't move, bending forward instead to nibble at Sean's earlobe, his fingers tightening in Sean's hair as he moved on to the man's jaw.

"Not going to fuck you till you beg for it, Sean," Orlando purred. "You need this, though. You need to beg me. I've hurt you, humiliated you, and now you need to beg. You need to deserve it."

Sean just growled and shook his head, his jaw tight. "You can't make me want it," he insisted. "You can beat me till I bleed, lad, but I won't like it," he hissed, though truthfully he was halfway there.

Orlando just smiled and grabbed at Sean's thighs with those long nails, rocking in barely detectable movements, reminding Sean of what he could have but wasn't getting, at the same time scraping the back of Sean's neck with his teeth.

"What if I don't beat you till you bleed?" Orlando whispered, scratching at Sean's hips and then trailing his fingers gently up the man's sides.

Sean closed his eyes and tried to ignore, but after just a few minutes, he was growing impatient and started to rock back, just slightly.

"Want something, Sean?" Orlando asked, his tone mild, a bit of a smile in it.

"I…" He cut himself off, and Orlando just laughed lightly, pressing his fingers inside Sean's mouth.

"Feels nice, doesn't it? That stretch, bit of a burn… do you like it, Sean?"

"I… well it's not _bad_," Sean conceded when Orlando withdrew his fingers to allow an answer, and Orlando just smiled.

"Stubborn northern bastard." He pushed forward slightly then, and Sean moaned in spite of himself, the familiar joking tone pulling at something deep in his gut that he couldn't quite name when paired with the painful shift and slide inside his body.

"Orlando…"

"Yes, Sean?"

"I'm sorry," he admitted, his tone almost too low to hear.

"I don't believe you," Orlando replied simply, pausing with just the head of his cock inside Sean, biting hard at Sean's shoulder.

"Ahh! I… I am, lad. I'm sorry I was in a mood."

"And…?"

"And?"

Orlando smiled, pressed forward just a bit. "C'mon, Sean. You're a smart man. Think a little harder."

Sean groaned when Orlando withdrew his cock a bit. "I'm sorry… that I didn't tell you what I wanted. I'm sorry I can't ask for it."

Orlando grinned then, and shoved his cock into Sean's body so hard he couldn't bite back a loud groan. "That's the ticket."

"Jesus, Orli…"

"Don't think that's the word you're looking for," Orlando purred teasingly in Sean's ear, pulling back in a slow slide.

"Fuck, I… Sir," Sean corrected, though his voice was small and a bit grudging.

"Your tone could use some work, boy," Orlando commented, "but your arse is tight enough that I'll forgive it."

"Fuck, Jesus, _please,_" Sean groaned as Orlando picked up the pace, embarrassed but letting need trump pride this time around, at least.

"Please what, Sean?"

"Need… to come, Sir, please…"

"Need to come? Interesting," Orlando replied casually, though he was a bit out of breath as he gripped Sean's shoulders hard and fucked him relentlessly. "So what you're saying, Sean, is that I've beaten you, made you suck me, fucked you with my cane, and now fucked you with my cock, and despite such treatment, you're so hard that you're desperate to come? Interesting."

"Please…" Sean rasped out, barely vocalising as his eyes fell shut from the shame.

"Shh," Orlando cooed, strangely soothing as he pressed a kiss to Sean's shoulder blade, wiping his index finger underneath Sean's eyes and then pressing it to Sean's lips, making the man taste his tears. "Almost done with you, boy. Almost done…"

"No," Sean gasped out, and Orlando just fucked him harder.

"What's that?"

"Don't want you to be… done," Sean begged, his eyes still shut tight.

"No?"

"I… oh fuck, Sir, please, I'm sorry, please…"

"Please what?" Orlando prompted, momentarily stilling inside Sean's body.

"Forgive me," Sean whispered, and Orlando was so surprised by that response that he instead gave Sean something he hadn't intended to at all, pulling back and slamming in so hard Sean thought he felt his teeth rattle.

"Come for me, boy," he hissed, and Sean had no choice but to obey, dampening the leather bench as Orlando continued to pound into his shaking body, his own orgasm ripping a hoarse yell from his throat. When he had finished, Orlando undid the cuffs quickly, helped Sean down almost tenderly, and stroked his back as he lay curled up on the floor, shaking from sobs he couldn't control.

"There now, Sean, you're all right… I've got you…" Orlando had the feeling he had broken something open he didn't quite know to handle, but he was damned if he wasn't going to take care of his friend now that he'd done it.

"I can't…. oh God…"

"Shhh. Stay till morning, Sean. I'm here for you, okay? I'm here for you."

Sean nodded shakily, and Orlando took him to the bedroom when he was ready, and later, much later, helped put him back together again. It was their little secret, but from then on Sean would come by a few times a year, and Viggo would make himself scarce, and Orlando would do something for Sean that no one else could, at least until another man entirely came along.

But that tale is for another day.


End file.
